Evanesce
by KaidaChann
Summary: When Matthew William's best friend has gone missing, a strange man suddenly appears in his life to help him find not only his friend, but something else he has been missing all of his life: The courage to do something near-impossible.
1. Snowball Fighting and German Beer

_Pairing: Gilbert Beilshidt/ Matthew Williams (Prussia/Canada)_

_Human names used._

_Hello! I am not much of a writer, but I've decided to go through with this. There may be slow updates for each chapter so I advise you to be patient. I hope you enjoy the story!_

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Matthew crouched down in the snow, curling his half-numb fingers around his sad attempt of a snowball. Half of it crumbled down to his feet in flakes, getting blown away by the light breeze. He frowned, and wondered how his friend did it. How could he compact snow into a ball without having pieces of it crumble so quickly? He was soon reminded not to be caught off guard when a sphere of snow came spiraling his way. He dodged it just barely, when he felt a cold lump of something cold landing squarely on the bridge of his nose, making his glasses crooked.

"I should've known he'd do that," Matthew quickly punished himself for not remembering. Not to his surprise, he could hear the sound of laughter from a short distance which added to his frustration.

Matthew picked up snow from the ground and blew his warm breath onto it, hoping it would stick together. To his surprise, it kind of worked. He ignored the pieces that fell and stood in a throwing stance. He pulled his elbow back and swung his arm down, only to find the ball landing a few feet in front of him. At this the laughter grew louder.

He hated the mocking laugh. It was one of the small things that irritated him most. This was his last attempt to show his opponent that he could be athletic in something else besides hockey.

He once again picked up a ball of snow, blew air on it, and threw back his elbow. His face twisted in determination as he through all of his weight forward, sending the ball flying in his friend's direction. It caught him off guard, as he was still giddy with laughter. Not anymore. The snowball hit his friend in the ear, and his face turned bright red with embarrassment. He turned his head to look at Matthew, who applauded sarcastically.

"Lucky shot!"

"You weren't even paying attention, Alfred!"

"You need to speak up! I can never hear you!" Matthew sighed and opened his mouth to say something, just before another ball came hurtling his way once again. He ducked and prepared for a second ball, but it never came.

"You're getting better!" Alfred said enthusiastically. Matthew frowned. What did Alfred mean about him "getting better"? He had always played this way, trying to dodge everything thrown at him, because if he tried anything else he'd get injured.

"What are you talking about?" Matthew yelled as loud as he could.

"What?" At this, Matthew stomped through the snow to where Alfred stood.

"I said, what do you mean?"

"What're you talking about?" Alfred stared at Matthew with a confused expression.

"Well, you said I'm getting better, what do you mean?"

"Is that what you said? You could've tried saying it louder."

Matthew ignored Alfred's last statement and asked again. "What did you mean?"

"I was just saying you've gotten better. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Er, but all I've been doing is dodging the snowballs."

"...That's the point of the game, dude." Alfred looked about to laugh.

"Eh?"

"Whatever, we had to stop soon anyway. It's getting late." Matthew turned his head to the pink and orange sunset in the distance. Alfred was right for once.

"Okay... So who do you think won?" Matthew asked while following Alfred up the slight slope of the hill.

"Well, judging by the way your glasses are hanging, I'd say me!" Alfred gave an almost condescending laugh.

Matthew crossed his arms and furrowed his eyebrows. "Hmph,"

"Don't worry, maybe you'll win next time!"

"That's pretty optimistic of you,"

"Or I'll _let_ you when next time."

"Or we can play hockey?" this was the tenth time today that Matthew had asked this.

"No way," Alfred crossed his arms. "The last time we played together I nearly got killed by a stick."

"The last time we played baseball you nearly broke my nose."

"Actually I do that every time we play baseball." Alfred began to laugh, but stopped when he saw the look on Matthew's face.

Alfred stepped up on the porch steps to their small house and rang the doorbell. Matthew rolled his eyes and gave a small smirk.

"Hello?" Alfred sounded like a small child. "Anybody home?"

"Just open the door."

"Hold on! I think somebody's coming!" Matthew bit back a laugh and reached for the knob. He pushed the door open and turned to face Alfred.

"Must you do that every time we come in here?"

"Yes actually," They stepped inside the living room where as always, the first thing you see is an old green couch, a large red chair, and other mismatching furniture.

"I'm gonna go to McDonald's to get a hamburger. Do you want one?"

Matthew responded immediately to this question as always. "I'll just stick to my toaster pancakes and syrup, thanks."

Alfred shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever you say,"

Matthew went over to the kitchen and grabbed the toaster pancakes from the freezer. He pulled the tab of the wrapper and tried to open the package as hard as he could, but just ended up whacking himself in the forehead.

"Here," Alfred outstretched his hand and signaled for Matthew to give him the package. Of course, Alfred opened it swiftly and quickly. Matthew's cheeks burned red as he was handed back the pancakes.

"...Thanks," he mumbled as he put the pancakes in the cheap toaster. Alfred squeezed past him, back to the living room.

"I'll be back in ten minutes." Alfred called over to Matthew just before shutting the door. _How can he constantly go to that place without getting sick?_ He leaned forward, tapping his fingers on the counter and propping his head with his hand.

After dodging snowballs nearly all day, Matthew realized how tired he was. He didn't know about Alfred though, he was always hyper and excited about everything. He's been like that since they were both little kids.

Matthew jumped when he heard the sound of the doorbell ring. Maybe Alfred decided not to go and came back? Whatever the reason, Matthew decided it didn't matter and went over to the front door, barely noticing the sound of his pancakes popping from the toaster. Deciding they were probably too hot to touch anyways, he opened the door, letting the freezing air in.

Instead of the booming blond with glasses he was so used to seeing, a young man with extremely light hair, pale skin, and eyes that were a light brown with a tint of... red? Matthew took a step back, slightly startled by this man's appearance.

He finally managed the words to come from his mouth. "Um... can I help you?"

An almost supercilious smile appeared on the man's face and he held out a large box. "Hello, my name is Gilbert and I'm selling German beer for three dollars a bottle. Would you like to buy some?"

"Er - we don't drink, sorry."

"Come on, you know you want some. It's probably going to be the most awesome bottle of beer you've had in your whole life!"

"I already said we don't drink!" Matthew reached for the knob of the door to try to stop this strange man from selling him this German beer.

"Take the beer you American!" 'Gilbert's voice suddenly turned loud. Matthew took another step backwards.

"I-I'm Canadian,"

"Same difference!"

Matthew raised his eyebrows in offense. "Excuse me, eh?"

"Could you please just buy one bottle?"

"What use will it do?"

"Maybe it'll feed my Grandpa, brother, and I? Plus, it'll make you a little awesome... just not as awesome as me of course."

Matthew crossed his arms. "Three dollars?"

"It's better than nothing," Gilbert gave a small wink.

"Uh... I don't think so," Over Gilbert's shoulder, Matthew could see that Alfred was already pulling into the driveway.

"Really? Well... I guess I'll get going then," Matthew sighed in relief as Gilbert turned to walk away.

Alfred stared at Gilbert through the car window and waited for him to cross the street before coming out of the car. He walked up to the house with a white McDonald's bag in his hands and a single french fry poking out of his mouth.

"Who was that?" he spoke while chewing his food.

"Just a salesman,"

"So that's why he had a box," Alfred paused. "What was he selling?"

Matthew went over to grab his pancakes from the toaster and got maple syrup from the refrigerator. "...German beer,"

Alfred responded almost immediately. "Isn't that illegal?"

They both sat down at eh small table. "I don't know, but if it isn't then it should be."

Alfred laughed. "I knew I should've put up a 'No Solicitors' sign up!" Matthew didn't see how that was funny but just went with it.

"Did you see his eyes?" Matthew took a bite from his food.

No, I don't really pay attention to that kind of stuff, Matt."

"Well they were... a reddish color."

"Really? Maybe he has color contacts," Matthew shrugged and continued eating his pancakes. "Anyways, why would somebody go around selling bottles of beer in the middle of winter?" Alfred spoke with a large amount of burger in his mouth.

"I guess he's desperate for money? He did say the money would help his family or something."

"Yeah, but people tell that to buyers to make them feel bad." Matthew nodded slightly.

"I guess so," Although, this man kind of interested Matthew. He couldn't put his finger on it but there was just something. It was probably the fact that he was so strange and different. The extremely light hair, the pale skin, and the especially odd eyes.

Matthew finished his food surprisingly quickly and stood. He then grabbed his plate, washed it in the sick, and sat down on the couch.

"Done already, Matt?" Of course Alfred's mouth was full again when he spoke.

"Yeah,"

"Oh hey," Alfred stopped to swallow. "Do you mind if you turn on the TV to The Weather Channel? I want to see how cold it'll be this week." From the angle Alfred was at, he could see the television perfectly.

Matthew stood again, having just sat down, and pressed the power button on the television. There was a quick flash and the screen showed the currently airing program. One of those old American cartoons. He grabbed the remote and sat back down while dialing the number of the channel.

A commercial about fertilizer was playing, encouraging people to buy their brand for the spring time instead of their competitor's. After a person repeatedly telling a phone number the "The Local on the 8's" intro popped up. The temperature was 28 degrees Fahrenheit with high chance of heavy snow in a few hours.

"There's going to be a snowstorm tonight," Matthew said to nobody in particular.

"Seriously? Maybe we can finally build a snowman!" Alfred sounded like a small child.

A small orange bar suddenly appeared at the bottom of the screen reading "Winter Storm Warning".

Matthew nodded as he spoke, "I guess so,"

"I just wish winter wasn't so cold! That Japanese guy down the street is almost always outside during the winter. I don't know how he can stand it!" Alfred shuddered and looked down at his hamburger. Matthew couldn't relate to this very well. He always liked the cold. The summer months are always too hot and the bugs make it even worse.

Alfred's face scrunched up as he read the seven day forecast. "It's supposed to rain _all_ week?"

"That's what it says," Matthew's mouth formed a small smile. The only bad thing about this would be that they would have to shovel the driveway… well, Matthew would. Alfred never did outdoor chores in the winter. He'd just claim he needs to sleep and would hide under the covers of his bed, waiting until Matthew was over.

The screen turned back to its normal program to show a woman pointing out multiple locations on radar. One of the locations was near where Alfred and Matthew lived. She said that their area would get exceptionally heavy snowfall.

Alfred looked both excited and nervous. As much as he wanted to go outside, he could never bear the cold. Matthew chuckled at the look on his face.

"What?" Alfred suddenly looked paranoid. Matthew almost laughed harder, but stopped himself before he started.

"Nothing,"

The rest of the evening was spent watching television and waiting for the storm to hit. By ten o'clock it finally began to snow and Matthew decided to go to sleep. He would be busy tomorrow with shoveling the driveway and possibly doing something in the snow with Alfred.

Matthew pulled on his pajamas in the middle of the bathroom and brushed his teeth. Alfred must have decided to go to sleep too, because through the crack at the bottom of the door the light turned off.

Matthew rinsed his mouth and opened the door to allow Alfred in. He stepped out of the bathroom and into their bedroom. His bed was furthest from the door and closest to the window. It was snowing so hard already that he could barely see out the window.

He lay down on the bed, covering himself in blankets. He fell asleep in a matter of minutes, barely noticing Alfred stepping into the room.

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_Hello again! Thank you for reading chapter 1! I hope you'll be back for chapter 2! :3_


	2. The Worst Night

_Pairing: Gilbert Beilshmidt/Matthew Williams (Prussia/Canada)_

_Human names used._

_Here is chapter two! I'm sorry - it's rather short. _

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Matthew's eyes flickered open at the sound of the crashing noise. He sat straight up, rubbing his eyes. He took a quick glance at Alfred to his right, who was lying with half of his body on his bed and the other half on the floor.

The sound of footsteps coming from the hallway made Matthew come to his senses. He stood up, quickly put on his glasses, and got out his old hockey stick from under his bed. Somebody was breaking in.

Without thinking, he shook Alfred by the shoulders. He moaned and rolled over on his side, now with his back facing Matthew.

"Wake up," he continued shaking Alfred, eventually a little harder. It took him about a minute or so to finally wake up.

"What issit?" Alfred's words were slurred from tiredness. Matthew put a finger to his lips, signaling to be quiet.

"Somebody's breaking in," Matthew's voice was barely audible.

"Dude, you've gotta be kidding me,"

"No, I'm not. Give me your cell phone." Alfred's eyebrows narrowed. He hated people using his stuff. He then glanced to the door in their room and out the window, then to his jeans at the end of his bed. There was a look on his face that looked like he expected Matthew to get it. Normally Matthew would protest, but under the circumstances he reached out for the pair of pants. Inside one of the pockets was an old flip phone that Alfred had owned for nearly five years now. It was completely black and looked worn out.

Matthew was about to dial the numbers 9-1-1 just before the door creaked open.

"Crap," Alfred muttered under his breath. His face looked exactly the same as the time he watched a ghost movie a few months ago.

A man in all black pointed a handgun between Matthew and Alfred. Matthew nearly dropped the phone in his hand. He took a quick glance at his hockey stick, which was laying next him, and then back at the man with the gun. Behind him, two more men in all black walked in with guns pointed. Matthew's eyes went wide with fear as the three of them scanned the room.

"Put your hands up and no sudden moves." The man's voice was scratchy, like he was a heavy smoker. That was when Matthew dropped the phone. Alfred got on his knees on the floor and put his hands above his head. The men walked further into the room. Matthew glanced at Alfred, who was looking like he was about to faint.

"Whatever you want… just take it!" Alfred stammered. Matthew could tell Alfred was trying to act brave. He shut his eyes, wishing Alfred hadn't said anything. He heard one of the men get closer and when he opened his eyes again he saw that the man was crouching next to them.

"Oh, we're not taking _something_ tonight." Through the crack in the man's ski mask Matthew saw two bright green eyes that reminded him of somebody he knew for a long time… but this man couldn't be the person he was thinking of.

"What are you talking about?" Alfred still sounded like he was trying to stand his ground, but the look on his face didn't support his words.

"I'd go into further detail, but I think you know what I'm talking about, Mr. Jones." Matthew stared at the man and Alfred. _What is he talking about?_

"How do you-"Alfred's eyes widened. "No! I won't let-"Alfred seemed to be thinking about multiple things at once.

"Trying to play hero? I know what you're like, same for your friend here. I could name all kinds of stuff that I'd rather not get into." The man's mask twitched and Matthew could tell that he was smiling… either that or smirking.

It all felt like something from some sort of movie. Why would this happen to them? What had they done for this to make it happen?

That was when Matthew reached for his hockey stick and swung. He hadn't really thought about it at first, but the man took it by surprise. The problem was, the other men didn't. They each shot with their guns twice, but they must have had bad aim because the bullets simply buzzed passed them and went straight into the wall.

The man that was hit by the hockey stick rubbed the side of his head, where he was hit. "You don't hit very hard, huh?" He made a snarling noise and stood up, slightly staggering along the way. He then raised his gun and pointed it to Matthew's head.

"We didn't come here to kill, but if we have to we will." Matthew gulped and let out a staggering breath. The man's eyes flickered quickly to Alfred and the brightness in them turned even colder than before. "I know what I want," The man's voice, if possible, became much deeper and quieter.

There was a brief moment of silence and then a yelp of pain. It took a second for Matthew to realize that he was the one who had made the noise. He lay on his back, clutching his head. He didn't even know how it happened. One second was silence, and then a pounding pain in his forehead burst. The next thing he knew there was a lot of yelling.

Matthew tried to open his eyes but everything felt blurred. It was hard to focus on one spot. He felt his glasses still secure on his face.

"Matt! Get up! Get a hold of yourself!" Alfred's voice came in a mix of fear and worry. Matthew tried to obey but once he took a small step or two he'd fall back down again. It must have looked pretty pathetic.

Alfred was putting up a fight. He wrestled the man who Matthew hit with his hockey stick. The other two men had their guns pointed but they wouldn't dare shoot if there was a possibility of their leader being shot.

Matthew looked through the window to see the neighbor's house dark and quiet. How could they not hear all of this? Or maybe they did. Maybe they were standing outside of the house, wondering what was going on. If they were outside, why wouldn't they do anything? _Because nobody really is out there. The only people that know what's happening are inside. You're the only person that can do something._

"Matthew! Snap out of it!" Alfred's voice ran desperately in his ears, but it was also getting more and more distant. He didn't know if Alfred was getting further away, or his sanity was. His heart was pumping in his throat and he could suddenly feel his blood running through every part of his body.

He looked back at Alfred, who was being unwillingly dragged away. He fought and screamed at the men to let him go but their grip was too tight. They were in the hallway now. A sudden feeling swept over Matthew. He didn't know what it was, but he couldn't let this happen. He couldn't lose his best friend.

At the moment, he had no idea what he was doing. It was just like when he swung the hockey stick. He crawled down the hallway, trying to go after them… but he was too slow. They were in the living room, probably opening the front door.

He knew he couldn't make it.

Then that was when Alfred's voice became louder and more desperate. "Dude! Matt! MATT! Get up!" he paused and looked like he was going insane. "Arthur! Francis! Yao! Ivan!" they were outside by the men's car. One of the men opened its back door. Alfred let out a scream that was soon muffled by the slamming of the car doors.

A sudden wave of nausea overwhelmed Matthew's brain and a strange sensation, like falling, overcame him as darkness overcame his sight.

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_Thanks for reading! I hope you'll be back for chapter 3! :D_


	3. We All Have Surprises Up Our Sleeves

_Pairing: Gilbert Beilshmidt/ Matthew Williams (Prussia/Canada)_

_Human names used._

_Welcome to chapter three! This is a flashback chapter. Sorry if you're disappointed. I just really wanted to do this chapter like this, if that makes sense. Enjoy!_

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It was nearing midday on a simmering hot day in early June. An excited ten-year-old Alfred ran to the middle of a baseball diamond with a baseball in his right hand, and a large mitt hanging loosely on his left. He gave a cocky smile to the boy who stood on home base.

"Okay, Matthew! Remember what I told you – swing at the ball when it's –"

"I-I know. I think I get it now." Matthew let out a nervous laugh.

"Hey, can we play cricket after this? This game is boring!" A boy with light blond hair, bushy eyebrows and bright green eyes said in his British accent.

"Ugh, fine." Alfred said back as he prepared to throw the ball. He looked at Matthew and smiled at him again, a little friendlier this time. "Ready?" Matthew nodded and, before he knew it, the ball came hurtling toward him. Without thinking, he swung the bat with all his might… or at least that's what it felt like. But instead of hitting the ball, the ball hit _him_. It landed squarely on his nose and knocked off his glasses.

"Ouch!" Matthew clutched the spot where he was hit with both hands and felt tears forming in his eyes. The others ran toward him with shocked looks on their faces.

"My god, Alfred," the British boy muttered under his breath.

"I thought you were good at baseball, Alfred!" their French friend stared at Matthew with surprise in his expression.

"I-I'm Matthew," Matthew said between a sob.

"I'll go get your parents, aru." Their Chinese friend said before running over to the playground, where the parents sat chatting.

"Perhaps I could fix it?" their Russian friend said in a friendly, yet creepy way. Matthew's eyes widened slightly and he quickly shook his head.

"Dude, I'm sorry! I should've thrown the ball slower." Alfred sulked.

Their British friend looked over at Alfred. "I told you we should've played cricket!"

"But we played that last week!" Alfred glared at him with annoyance in his expression.

"We played _this_ bloody game last week too!"

"Come on, Arthur! It's fun, unlike your dumb game."

"Dumb? How is cricket dumb? It's a civilized –"Arthur began.

"-sport thing, blah, blah, blah." Alfred finished his last words with a smirk.

Matthew stared up at the others pleadingly. How could they just watch them fight? Why didn't they try stopping anything? He felt about to cry and Alfred and Arthur were fighting, his Russian friend was simply smiling creepily at the two fighting and his French friend was flipping his long blond hair, muttering to himself about something.

"Please, stop fighting…"

Suddenly, everything began turning white and the scene started to fade into a new image. It was mid-winter, four young teenage boys stood on a large dock on a pond with sticks in their hands and ice skates on their feet. One boy stared down at the ice, and his expression suddenly turned from cocky to nervous.

Another boy next to him wore a long white scarf and, for some reason, looked extremely out of place. The other boy was much smaller than the rest and wore his long black hair back in a ponytail. The last boy looked much more excited than the others, almost bouncing with joy.

"Come on, let's go! It'll be really fun, I promise!" Matthew picked up his puck from the floor of the deck and stepped onto the ice.

"Uh, I'm not sure about this…" his Chinese friend, Yao, looked nervously at the skates on his feet.

"It's easy! Besides, it's no different than an actual ice rink." Matthew held out his hand to him.

"But the thing is – AIYAA!" before anyone could process exactly what had happened, Yao went speeding straight forward on the pond without any signs of stopping.

"Yao!? What are you doing?" Alfred called out.

"Ah, ah! How do you stop these things!?" without warning, Yao fell backward on his behind. Matthew went speeding forward toward Yao, stopping abruptly before he helped him back up.

"Um… Don't worry; the ice is really thick here." From behind, Alfred and Ivan were starting to come over to see what happened.

"Dude! Yao, you know how to skate don't you?" Alfred gave a puzzled look.

"Ah, well you see… I didn't officially –"Yao started.

Alfred bit his lip to hold back a laugh. "So wait, you've never learned how to ice skate before?"

"A-Alfred, a lot of people don't know how to skate…" Matthew said quietly.

"Sorry, aru." Yao said this even quieter than Matthew usually spoke.

"It is fine, comrade. I will take you back to the dock." Ivan said in his heavy Russian accent. He grabbed the end of Yao's sleeves and moved forward, dragging the helpless kid behind him.

"Comrade?" Alfred muttered. Matthew ignored this last comment.

"So, should we play one on two? I could be my own team…" Alfred's expression changed to a look of nervousness. "Why can't I be on your team?"

"I've been playing the longest. You and Ivan can pair up and go against me. It's only fair."  
Alfred sighed and gripped the hockey stick in his hands tightly. "Fine, just… don't kill us alright?"  
Matthew let out a laugh. "I promise."

Back at the dock Yao gave an embarrassed smile and a slight wave. Ivan was heading back to Alfred and Matthew, swinging his hockey stick like a weapon. It didn't take his a while to get back.

"We are playing without Wang, da?" he spoke, slightly out of breath.

"Yeah, and since we don't have many players, I was thinking we could all play as defense and offense but without a goalie. If-if that makes sense."

"I think I get it. I guess it's fair. Nice thinking, Matt." Alfred said as he gave Matthew a pat on the back. Matthew smiled in accomplishment.

"Huh… thanks," he looked around at Alfred and Ivan, who just stood there staring at him. "Uh, should we get started?"

"Sure!" Alfred spoke and Ivan nodded. For once, Alfred seemed excited to play hockey with Matthew, which was a rare occasion.

"Let's go then!" Matthew let out an excited laugh as he skated to the middle of the pond and dropped the puck, Alfred and Ivan following behind.

"Okay, so one of you come up here and try to get –"

"Dude, I know what to do, you talk about it all the time." Alfred said as he skated over to Matthew.

"Ah, um, sorry. Force of habit, I guess?" Matthew paused. "Ready?" Alfred nodded and before they knew it the game had begun.

Even playing as his own team, he was creaming Alfred and Ivan. As far as he knew, he had scored at least eight goals and the others not even once. It was just before Matthew had attempted to score his ninth goal that something unexpected happened. Alfred began sprinting as fast as he could towards Matthew, a certain longing expression spreading out across his face; hunger.

_Not now _"Alfred, can't it wait a little longe – Ahh!" A sudden push from his hockey stick made him lurch forward, nearly causing him to fall face-first into the ice.

"Awh, dude, that hurt." Alfred sat on the ice, a few feet away from Matthew, rubbing his knees with his hands.

"What in the _world_ were you just thinking?" Matthew sighed.

"Well I… thought I saw a hamburger sitting on top of the goal and it got me excited…"

"Why would there be a hamburger out here in the cold?"

"I don't know, but _man_ that hurt."

"Of course…" Matthew whispered inaudibly.

"Did you say something?" a voice whispered in Matthew's ear.

"Yahp!" Matthew yelped before turning around to see an ominous-looking Ivan. "Ivan, don't scare me like that!"

"Ha-ha! Dude, that was awesome!" Alfred held up one of his hands high above his head. Ivan glanced over at Alfred and blinked once. Alfred awkwardly put down his hand and stood up uneasily. "Man, I swear I'm going to get bruises from that."

"Well, you shouldn't have skated over like a maniac." Matthew said quietly.

"I couldn't help it! I'm starving!"

"You are always starving," Ivan said with superiority.

"I guess that doesn't matter… but can you still skate without falling?" Matthew looked down at Alfred's knees with uncertainty. "You look like you're going to fall over."

"I'm fine, dude, but either way I'm getting kind of tired of this game. Can we go eat?"

Matthew sighed. "I had a feeling you'd say that."

"Da! I'd like some vod- I mean food as well!" Ivan said excitedly.

"…Fine, but next time we play we should do an actual game." Matthew glanced over at Alfred again. He was resting his elbow on the top of his hockey stick, leaning heavily on it and giving a cocky smile.

"Can we go now? I'm starving!" Alfred pointed to his stomach and made grumbling noises with his mouth. "See?" He didn't seem to notice how rude he sounded.

Matthew made an unsure expression on his face. "…I guess so,"

"Then let's go!" Alfred began skating forward at a quick speed, his knees wobbling slightly as he jumped forward.

"A-Al!" _Geez…_

Ivan chuckled. "Even if he's injured, if food is in the picture nothing else matters." Ivan chuckled.

Matthew turned around to face Ivan, surprised be his remark. For a moment he just stood there with a surprised expression on his face. Then, slowly, he began to laugh. "I never thought somebody like you would say that."

Ivan's face lit up and a small smile formed on his face, and not one of his usual creepy ones. "We all have surprises up our sleeves, da?"

* * *

_Thank you for reading chapter three! I hope you'll be back for chapter four! :3_

_Like Yao, I can't ice skate either. xD_


	4. A Small Spec of Light

_Pairing: Gilbert Beilshmidt/Matthew Williams (Prussia/Canada)_

_Human names used. _

_Sorry for the slow updates. I'm very easily distracted, I guess. I've had this chapter ready for about two weeks, but I never actually thought about typing it on the computer. Sorry about that. At the least, I hope you will enjoy this chapter. _

_The little strip of philosophy was inspired by all of the lectures my Biology teacher gives my class. _

* * *

A small spec of light. So far away it's nearly impossible to reach. That's how difficult the mind sets a task, matter how simple it seems. No matter what, the brain makes any problem more complicated than it really is.

Matthew's eyes flickered open. He was warm under his blankets in the same room he fell asleep in. _It was all a dream… _he thought silently to himself. It took him a while to realize a somewhat familiar face looking down into his.

"A-Al?" Matthew's eyes widened, trying to make sense of this person in front of him.

"Uh, _nai. _I'm Kiku."

"Aiyaa! He really was hit in the head, aru!"

"Please be quiet, Yao-kun." The person who Matthew thought was Alfred pronounced is "L's" like "R's".

"But how do _you_ look like-" Kiku gave Yao a disapproving, yet blank, look.

"What happened…?" Matthew started.

"Yao and I were walking over because I wanted to get something from Alfred. We knocked on the door for a while, but nobody answered. I was just about to walk away and come back later, when Yao-kun reached for the doorknob." Kiku spoke this smoothly, as if he had recited it multiple times. "The door was… open. We found you lying on the floor next to the coach. We think you might have fallen out of it and hit your head on something."

Yao nodded. "You _do _have a pretty big bump on your head, aru." Yao said matter of fact-ly.

"Wait – Yao, why are you in America?" Matthew was beginning to come back to his senses.

"I came back from China about a week ago and I've been staying at Kiku's ever since. I didn't realize you guys lived in the same neighborhood, aru."

Memories from the night before rushed back into Matthew's mind like a flash flood. "And," he took a deep breath. "By any chance, have you seen Alfred?"

"No, why?" Yao replied.

"It's… nothing. Nothing," Matthew stammered. Kiku gave him a look of concern before turning his head to look out the window.

"Matthew, do you know why your door was unlocked?" Kiku spoke, his eyes still focused on the window. It took a moment for Matthew to realize he needed to answer. Without thinking, he shook his head.

"No," he mumbled in a voice that was barely audible.

"And one more thing," Kiku turned his head to face Matthew's, his expression dead serious. "Were those… bullet holes in the wall always there?"

"I – I…" Matthew hesitated, then he nodded his head slowly. Something inside himself told him that he shouldn't have done that.

Both Kiku and Yao exchanged expressions with each other. "Right," Kiku nodded lightly. "I could make you some breakfast if you like."

"No, you shouldn't. You don't need to get me anything… I can get it for myself. You can leave, if you want…" Either nobody heard him, or they just ignored him, because Kiku walked out of the room and Yao walked over to the window to shut the blinds slightly.

Matthew tried to sit up, but for some reason he felt heavier than usual. Yao turned around from the window and frowned.

"You shouldn't try getting up; you'll just end up back down again. Besides, you seem to have hit your head pretty hard, aru. If you push yourself, your condition will only get worse." Matthew let out a deep sigh at this and pulled up his covers again. _Of course, _he thought. _I'm playing the weak one again. _He pulled up the covers a little higher. _I can't do… anything. Even when Al's gone. _Matthew's eyes widened but he quickly shut them. _Where_ is _he? What in the world is going on? Didn't _anyone _hear Al's screaming? Or was it all just my imagination? Maybe it was… just a dream? _He shook off that last thought. It couldn't be. Those bullet holes in the wall didn't suddenly appear by magic. They had to be made from a _real_ gun. _A gun…_

"Matthew?" Matthew's eyes flashed open again. Yao was watching him curiously from a few feet away. "Never mind. I just wanted to see if you were alright."

"I-I'm fine." Yao gave him a concerned look, but quickly changed his expression back to normal.

"I think I'm going to help Kiku with the food." Matthew nodded once and watched him step out of the room and shut the door.

"Alfred…" Matthew whispered. He turned on his side, holding his knees to his chest. _I need to report it to the police… But I can't just sit here and wait while a bunch of people I don't know are searching for him! I don't care if I hit my head or whatever. Something's not right. I need to fix this, I –_ the door suddenly creaked open.

"Matthew, we have your food. Once you eat it we should probably get going. We have a lot to do today." Yao said in his usual, even tone.

"Aiyaa!" Yao exclaimed. "You're always so busy in the winter."

Kiku shrugged. "Because there's always so much to be done."

"Ah, whatever, I'll help you. Maybe it'll be like old times, aru." Yao smiled. "Sounds kind of nostalgic, don't you think?" He seemed to have said this to himself more than anyone. Kiku ignored his last comment and handed Matthew the food. Some type of concoction with lots of noodles and vegetables. Not soup. What was it called, remon? As if on cue, Kiku answered that question almost immediately.

"It's ramen. I haven't made it in a while, so I decided make it again. I, uh, hope it isn't too much."

"You really should eat it. Kiku's food isn't like Arthur's, aru." Yao laughed at this comment, and Matthew joined in with him. Arthur's cooking really was awful. Especially his scones. _Wait, _Matthew paused. _Arthur… his eyes… Green. _He shook off that last thought and sat up in the bed to eat. There were chopsticks and a spoon on the tray. He supposed Kiku put the spoon there in case Matthew would have trouble with the chopsticks. He reached for the chopsticks anyway, although he had always had a difficult time with them.

Yao and Kiku sat in two chairs that had been moved from the dining room. It was utterly silent as Matthew ate. Yao didn't even mention something about when they were younger. He just sat there, with as blank an expression as Kiku's. It was almost as it… something was bothering him.

"Y-Yao?" Matthew blurted out without thinking. He hid half of his face under his blankets.

Yao glanced over at him and quickly changed his expression to appear cheerful, but his eyes were still full of concern. "Yes?"

"N-nothing, I'm sorry." Matthew could feel his face turn red.

At that moment, the ringtone of a cell phone came from Kiku's pocket. He swiftly took his phone and answered it. "Hello?"

The person on the other end was so loud that his voice could be heard clearly, even though Kiku's phone wasn't on speaker. "Ah! Kiku! Francis and Arthur and Gilbert are being scary!" Kiku flinched at the volume that suddenly burst from his phone and pulled it away so that it wouldn't kill his eardrums.

"Feliciano? What's going on, exactly?"

"I was over at Ludwig's house and then Gilbert started talking about when he and Luddy were kids, but then he got all creepy and he started saying creepy things! Then there was a knock on the door and Francis and Arthur came in from nowhere! And now Francis is stripping and Arthur is yelling at him and it's really scary!" In the background there was a familiar, nasally laugh and muffled shouts.

Matthew, however, was less concerned about the whole situation and more interested in the person named Gilbert. Could it be the same person who had tried to sell that German beer? It felt like so long ago considering what had happened over night.

Kiku sighed. "Why isn't Ludwig or his grandfather doing anything about it?"

"Ludwig's yelling at Gilbert and their grandpa is visiting an old friend I think. But that doesn't matter… you need to come, quick!"

"I apologize, but I'm a little busy at the moment…" Judging by Kiku's expression, situations like this happened multiple times a day for him.

"Th-then send somebody else!" The noises in the background were getting louder.

Kiku glanced over at Yao and sighed. "Do you mind going?"

"I guess not, but, aiyaa! Francis hasn't changed a _bit_ has he?"

"Kiku, this is scary!" The sound of flapping fabric came loudly from the phone's speaker. "I surrender! Don't come any closer! Italian pride!"

"I'd better get going." Yao said with an alarmed expression slowly spreading across his face.

"I agree," Kiku said quickly.

Yao stood from his chair and walked over to the door, but before he opened it, he glanced at Kiku. "How does that even happen?"

"I guess whenever Francis and Gilbert are around, something crazy is bound to happen." Kiku glanced at his phone and spoke into it. "Feliciano, Yao-kun is coming over. I'm sure he'll be able to fix something."

"O-okay, but make him come fast!"

"Feliciano says to come quickly." Kiku spoke just as Yao opened the door.

"Alright," Yao quickly walked down the hallway and, not much longer, he could be seen from the window, walking down the sidewalk.

Kiku pressed the button on him phone that ended phone calls and stood. "I need to leave too. Like I said earlier, I'm very busy today. If you need anything, just call me on my cell phone. I probably won't be too far from my house. I advise you not to push yourself. Just get plenty of rest." Kiku gave him a small smile and began to head out the room.

"Uh, Kiku, wait. I need to tell you something. About… Al." Matthew said quietly.

Kiku's eyebrows furrowed together. "Right,"

"A-about all that, I-I have no idea where he is…"

"Well, maybe he is outside or – "

Matthew took a shaking breath. "No, you don't understand. Something happened last night. Something… crazy. But if I tell you, you might misunderstand. You'd think I'd gone mad."

"What are you saying?"

_I need to tell him. If I don't, I might never see Al again. _Tears began to form in Matthew's eyes. "Al was… Alfred was kidnapped." Though Matthew's voice was even quieter than normal, Kiku seemed to have heard him.

"My god…" Kiku's eyes widened in realization. "Matthew, are you sure this is exactly what happened?"

"Positive," Matthew choked on the words. "I saw it happen." It was strange, telling a person he barely knew important personal information.

"We should tell the police. They'll be able to help." Kiku was staying surprisingly calm, as if he was trying not to startle Matthew.

"I guess…" _But I don't want to just sit here and wait for something to happen…_ He could feel a tear run down his cheek.

Kiku stared sorrowfully at him. "It'll be for the best. It's our best chance at finding him." The tear hung at Matthew's chin and threatened to fall. Kiku heaved a sigh. "I don't want to push you, but I'm afraid we have no choice. Y-you're the one with the most information." Kiku walked over to the bed and helped Matthew stand. Once he was up he didn't feel as terrible as he expected, but he still felt heavier than usual.

He walked over to the closet and opened it to grab his coat. He knew it had to be freezing outside.

"Do you feel alright?" Kiku's expression showed a high amount of concern. Matthew nodded and proceeded to putting on his coat. He didn't even bother to switch into his casual clothes, instead of his pajamas. For some reason, he didn't care. It wouldn't matter anyway.

"Are you ready?"

Matthew took a brief glance at Alfred's empty bed, and then the bullet holes in the wall. "Yes,"

Kiku nodded and walked through the doorway and through the rest of the house. He opened the front door and stepped swiftly outside. Off they went, striding into the frigid air.

* * *

_Thank you for reading chapter 4! I hop you'll be back! I enjoy writing this, even if I am very slow. I'll see you soon, I hope. ;3_


	5. An Unexpected Stranger Starts a Journey

_Pairing: Gilbert Beilshmidt/Matthew Williams_

_Human names used._

_Hello! I feel terrible for those of you who started reading this all those months ago. I've had this chapter ready for a long while, but never typed it until a few weeks ago - and for some reason I was unable to publish this until today. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter and will be back for the next! I also hope you enjoy my little hobbit reference in the chapter title. _

* * *

The ride to the police station felt like it would last forever. Maybe it was the fact that he was beginning to get a massive headache. Maybe it was the fact that all he could think about was horrible this situation – no, everything – had turned out. Maybe it was the fact that the bump on his head seemed to make everything slow down into a domino effect of confusion. Maybe it was the latter.

He just wanted to backtrack and think of a happier moment, but all that seemed to be blocked by a huge, imaginary brick wall, set on fire by the man with green eyes. He wanted to smash the man in the face with his hockey stick and pour maple syrup all over his head, but his brain processor seemed to be malfunctioning, like a computer with a virus. One of those Trojan viruses that show you one thing and rub it in your face until you shut your computer down, but when you turn it on again – it's too late. Your whole system is ruined. Matthew felt like one of those computers. All because of one problem, then it all went downhill.

His brain was so full of information that had come all at once that he barely noticed Kiku speaking to him. Maybe it was just Matthew's imagination, but when he glanced at Kiku, his mouth moved, but no words came.

"S-sorry?"

"I said we're here." Kiku spoke, his expression as blank as ever. Matthew nodded and pushed open the door.

The police station's landscape was beautiful, but inside looked like a whole different property. It couldn't be any more bland. The first thing Matthew noticed was the tall officer behind a desk, which was built into the wall, glancing at them with boredom written all over his face. The next thing he noticed was the lack of decoration. The room had one plant sitting in the corner, which was surprisingly a startling shade of green, and that was it. At least they cared for the plants.

The chairs aligned along the wall, across from the desk, were completely black and patterned with holes on the seats and backs. A man sat in one leaning back, supposedly sleeping, though the officer behind the counter seemed to give no notice to him. The floor had simple black-and-white tiling. On the left side of the room sat a plain black, worn-down pay phone.

Kiku marched forward, forcing Matthew to follow him. The officer stared at them with the same apparent boredom and spoke to them. "Is there a problem, gentlemen?" He sounded western and his nose wrinkled when his mouth opened, so it appeared as if he were about to sneeze with every syllable he spoke. It may have been amusing if this were a better moment.

Kiku glanced at Matthew, who just stood there, eyes wide. After realizing he would not answer, Kiku responded with a simple, "We believe our friend has been kidnapped."

The man furrowed his eyebrows and stared at them with utter seriousness radiating off his expression. "You _do_ realize how serious that is, right? Do you have any proof it happened?" He sounded as if he wanted to say the words kindly, but also in a way that made it seem like he didn't believe them.

Matthew hesitated. He wanted to say something, but he felt that if he did, he'd break down or… he didn't want to think about that. Then again, the man behind the desk began to raise his eyebrows.

"I saw him get taken away…" Matthew mumbled with a shaky voice.

"Pardon?" The man raised his eyebrows even higher. Kiku glanced back at Matthew, a warning look in his eyes that told him not to get too far into the story.

Matthew closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. "It was late last night… I – we were sleeping and I heard a noise, so I walked over to my friend's bed and woke him up." He felt his face tense. "A man opened the bedroom door before we could call 911 with two others behind him and they…" He felt his voice begin to stutter. "t-took…" He didn't finish his sentence.

The man looked at Matthew with a strange mixture of suspicion and grief, and then sighed. "Either you're telling the truth, or you're putting up a good act. Follow me; I'll take you to somebody who can ask you more about what happened."

As they followed, Kiku walked next to Matthew and whispered, "This police station works a strange system." Matthew didn't respond: he just kept walking, head down.

In the next room there were completely white walls with clean, white tiled flooring. Desks were sprawled out across the floor in an orderly fashion, and men and women sat hunched over their papers. Others half-ran, half-walked through the room, which gave it a busy feel. It almost looked like a place from a video game Alfred had played once, about a man looking for his child or something. Maybe the people in this room were detectives, just like in the game, except none of them talked of some crazy child killer. He let the thought slide and continued to follow the officer, Kiku still right beside him.

Matthew looked around at everything and felt himself wanting to scream. He didn't know why exactly, it was just one of those moments that suddenly occur when you're in an extreme amount of stress. It bothered him that everyone was just minding their own business, and not even realizing that there were more problems in that world than a stack of paper. It was strange for him, feeling this way, It was like something from deep inside himself was forcing its way out into an explosion, and he hated it. It didn't feel like himself and it was just… odd.

They stopped by a large, circular desk near the middle of the room. The man they followed before said something to another officer at the desk. The officer at the desk nodded and said something else, then pointed to his left. The man Matthew and Kiku followed nodded and told them to follow him awhile longer.

They were heading toward where the other man was pointing, to the left of the room. Then, not much longer, they stopped by a small desk where a man sat staring at what looked like a deformed bullet in a plastic bag. When the man they followed tapped his shoulder, he looked up. His eyes narrowed and his eyebrows knit together. His hair was shaggy blond and cut just below his ears.

"Not another tour, is it?"  
For a split second, Matthew forgot everything important and all he could think was; _why would a police station give tours?_

The man sighed and went, "Guess not. Questioning?" The man they had followed leaned over and whispered something in the officer's ear. The officer's eyes widened for a second and went back to normal again. He told the man to go on with his other business and cleared his throat.

"Well then, it seems like we have quite a situation here." He pulled over two rolling chairs from the side and had Kiku and Matthew sit in them. "But before we get into the details, why haven't you come earlier?"

Kiku spoke before Matthew even got the chance to. "We had a bit of a contradiction, sir."

"That involved what?" Matthew tensed in his seat as the officer said this.

"I couldn't… because the kidnapper hit me in the head." Kiku looked at Matthew and seemed surprised he had spoken.

The officer let out a breath. "Very well, can you tell me exactly what happened last night?"

Matthew told the whole story, while the others listened. It felt strange to talk so much.

"Can I get a description of the assailants?"

"They all wore black, but the only thing else I can remember was the first man's eyes, which were green. Oh, and his voice was deep and sounded like he smoked heavily." Then he realized something. He gasped. The officer sitting right in front of them had nearly the same exact eye color of the kidnapper's. In fact, the more he looked at them, the more he could see it. He felt himself scoot backwards in his chair.

"Is something wrong?" The officer's eyes narrowed slightly. There was the difference; his voice. It was somewhat deep, but it did not sound like he smoked.

_Calm down, it can't be this man. _He knew it couldn't have been him, but it had still startled him so much.

Matthew nodded and swallowed. "Sorry,"

"Okay. If you have any more information, don't be afraid to call." The officer handed Matthew and Kiku small business cards and then furrowed his eyebrows together, as if in deep thought. "You're allowed to leave now." He showed them the back of his hand and waved it forward and backward, signifying that they were dismissed. Matthew looked over at Kiku, who stared at the card with what seemed to be utter embarrassment. Kiku stood from his seat. His face was a bright shade of pink. He turned so that his back faced the officer. Matthew looked down at his own card. A familiar name – Zwingli – was imprinted on the card in bold, capitalized letters with a business number below it.

Matthew followed Kiku's gesture and stood from his seat. Kiku had already started walking away, though, so Matthew had to jog to catch up to him, which did not quite feel very good on his head.

"K-Kiku!" Matthew reached for his shoulder. "What was that about?"

Kiku shook his head. "It is nothing - at least nothing important." His expression was against his words, however. He looked as if he were about to slap himself. "_Watashi no baka. _How did I not recognize…?" He caught himself and looked back at Matthew. "I am sorry. I was just… dueling on the past."

Matthew stayed silent. His mind told him it would be best to just take it lightly. It was probably some silly thing that happened between Kiku and Zwingli a few years back.

They headed out the door to the waiting room, where the officer from before was back at the desk and the man in the chair was still sleeping. It looked exactly the same as before. Kiku pushed opened the entrance door. A cold blast of winter air blew into Matthew's face, which felt strange compared to the warm air inside; yet somewhat pleasant. He looked down at his feet as he walked. He did not feel like talking. Everything was just too crazy at the moment. He needed to find a solution, but he knew he couldn't do all this on his own. Then, as quickly as the cold wind blew into his face after the door was opened before, he bumped into something.

"Maple!" Of course, to his bad luck, he lost his balance and fell backward onto the frozen concrete. He landed on his backside with a small thud. He looked up at the thing he bumped into, but instead of seeing a car, or a bench, he saw a person. The person turned around in alarm. He held an expensive phone in his hands and a small bird sat on shoulder.

Matthew felt a sense of recognition as he looked into the person's face. "Er – I'm sorry,"

The person smiled confidently. "Well look, if it isn't the American that won't buy my beer." He held out a hand to Matthew, who took it reluctantly. He saw Kiku walking up to them.

"I'm Canadian…"

"Of course you are. So, did you change your mind?"

"What?"

"About the beer," He winked.

Matthew felt his face get hot. "N-no! I was just –"

"Matthew, are you alright?" Matthew looked over the man's shoulder and saw Kiku, who seemed alarmed.

The man, whom Matthew remembered as Gilbert Beilshmidt, put his phone in his pocket and spoke. "Huh, my brother's friend is with you! Would you like some German beer, too? It's obviously not as awesome as _Prussian_ beer, but whatever."

Kiku backed up a step. "Gilbert?"

Gilbert stroked the bird's head and signaled it to fly off, which Matthew thought was strange, because what bird would live in this area during the winter?

"That's me. I'm awesome." Gilbert Beilshmidt gave another large smile. "So, do you want to buy beer, or what?"

"No, thank you." He paused. "Ludwig said you were with Francis at you house." Kiku stated.

Gilbert kept his smile on. "I was, but I decided to leave." Kiku blinked. "Anyways, if you're not here to buy my beer, then what _do_ you want? Let me guess - you couldn't resist me, so you just _had_ to come here and run into me by 'accident'." He smirked.

"No, we were just at –" Matthew caught himself. He couldn't just tell some stranger what they were doing.

"Attempting to stare at my awesomeness without being noticed?" Gilbert smiled even bigger – if that were possible.

Matthew couldn't believe this guy. He acted so _ridiculous_, like the world revolved around him or something.

"Or," Gilbert's smile dampened. "Were you in there?" He pointed towards the police station with distaste. "I thought I heard the doors open and close a few minutes ago."

Matthew let an unintentional breath from his mouth and looked down at his feet. Though he could not see it, he could tell the Gilbert Beilshmidt man was frowning.

"I guess you were. I don't like that place. It gives me a bad vibe."

"But didn't Ludwig work there for a while?" Matthew heard Kiku say.

"He quit though, didn't he? I guess he just felt my awesomeness come to his senses and came to tell him what's right!" Matthew looked up at him and saw he was smiling again.

"_Hai,_ correct,"

"Anyways, what were you doing in there?" Gilbert said. Matthew raised an eyebrow.

"I am sorry, but I doubt it would matter to you." Kiku said in a tone that was almost cold.

"Something like this always matters to me!" Gilbert pointed at Matthew. "He was _almost_ a customer – which makes his _almost_ as awesome as an actual one. I think I should know." He winked at Matthew, who, for some reason, felt his face grow hot. _Is this guy insane?_

"Please Gilbert; we are in the middle of something. Now if you will excuse us," With that, Kiku sprang forward a step and walked quickly to his car.

"Kiku –" Matthew called after him. He was surprised with the way he was acting. It wasn't like him.

"Yeah, Kiku! What's the problem?" Matthew stopped and turned back to see Gilbert jogging towards them. He noticed Kiku stop ahead and walk away from his car.

"I cannot tell you without Matthew's permission."

"I'm taking it the American's name is Matthew?"

"Canadian," Matthew corrected in an undertone.

Kiku looked first to Gilbert, then to Matthew. "Well, he isn't American but yes, he is Matthew."

"So what is it, Matthew?" Gilbert turned to him, a look of confusion beginning to show on his face. Matthew could suddenly feel the cold wind blowing on him. A shower of snow began to fall, as if it could sense the mood grow dim. Funny, how something usually so cheerful could turn dreary in a matter of seconds.

"My roommate has gone missing,"

Gilbert stared at him, and for once, his expression wasn't so obnoxious. "You mean the guy that pulled into your driveway yesterday?"

Matthew waited a second before responding, and then nodded.

"Well, then let's start searching!" Kiku and Matthew stared at him. It was so strange, the way he acted.

"You can't expect us to let you come along, I mean we barely know one another and we're looking for somebody you've never actually met." Matthew said in nearly a whisper. He barely expected Gilbert to hear him say any of this, but the German responded as if he'd said it at a normal volume.

"What!? But you were almost a customer of mine! That makes you one of the most awesome people ever; besides me, of course." Gilbert gave him the same, ridiculous smile he wore on the day they met, just yesterday. "Now come on. Let's go find this friend of yours."


End file.
